


dangerous minds

by Vault_of_Glass



Series: Kinktober 2018 [8]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Biting, Bondage, Choking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Hate Sex, Rough Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 12:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16241765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vault_of_Glass/pseuds/Vault_of_Glass
Summary: Day 8: Hate-fucking





	dangerous minds

She shouldn’t be here.

The empty hallways of Fort Hagen echo with her footsteps. Her skin crawls at the cold, static silence, pressed in by dark stone walls and trapped away from any sunlight.

She follows a path she’s taken far too many times before, each with the promise of an end and always unsuccessful.

But not today. No more running, no more mercy, no more failed attempts to make things right.

Today he doesn’t make it out alive.

The command center is empty when she steps carefully over the threshold. Fluorescents still cast skeletal white light over the desks and ruined carpet, the screens of every terminal gone dark with busted filaments. She clutches her rifle close and stands unmoving in the corner, waiting - listening.

She hears the shift of boot on carpet and reacts only a second too late. An arm shoves her hard against the wall, slamming her head to stone as the full weight of Kellogg’s body keeps her pinned. Her head spins at the impact, shoulders aching from the elbow like steel at her back. His free hand rips the blade from her belt, hips crushing her against the wall until her hands fall open and the rifle clatters from her grasp.

Kellogg shimmers into view behind her, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “This is getting old, Bautista.” When she gathers the strength to buck against his hold, he pins her harder, and her spine aches in protest. “To what do I owe the pleasure this time.”

“You’re not fucking  _dead_ yet.”

“Pity, isn’t it?” His voice rumbles roughly at her ear, and every instinct in her body screams to fight, to move, to make him bleed until he’s lifeless at her feet. “The world keeps turning. Why don’t you just move on like everyone else?”

The sting of tears prickles behind her eyes. She  _can’t_  move on. It haunts her, keeps her up at night, to think that he’s here eking out his last few miserable decades while her husband decomposes in the ground. Every day is anguish and exhaustion, and the frail, thin hope that Kellogg’s death will finally bring her some form of respite.

She can’t bear to imagine what will happen if it doesn’t.

Kellogg shifts his weight behind her, and she exploits the brief moment of give in his hold to swing her elbow back at him. She hits something solid and hears him curse as she slips from his grasp and reaches for her rifle.

He’s faster. Kellogg’s  _always_ faster. He kicks her rifle across the room and grabs her by the waist, flinging her down against the carpet. Impact steals the breath from her lungs, and he plants his knees on either side of her, securing her beneath his weight.

For a moment, they simply glare at each other. Now that she can see his face, River feels herself shaking with murderous rage. Those passive dark eyes watch her seethe and he shakes his head, one end of his mouth curling up into a joyless smile.

“You keep coming back,” he notes, and his voice feels cold as stone. “And I keep telling you it’s never gonna happen. You couldn’t kill me even if that soft little heart of yours really wanted to.”

River grits her teeth. It’s  _all_ she wants. It’s all she thinks about. She can’t  _sleep_ at night for wanting to tear the blood from his body, and it chills her to the bone to know he’s  _changed_ her like this. Stolen a part of that softness and left only hatred behind.

“You know what you took from me,” she seethes, her voice low but unshaking.

Kellogg has never denied it. “We both do. And yet here you are again, as if you want me to take more.” His scarred face tilts closer, until she can feel the warmth of his breath and his body heat against her. He pins a hand around her throat and grips in just enough to feel the pressure. “What do I have to do to make you stay away?” he growls, and the first edge of frustration sharpens his voice.

“Drop dead,” she spits past his grip at her throat, and he snarls out a laugh that seems to vibrate in her very bones.

“Gotta admit, that rage looks fucking good on you.” His hand curls rough around her jaw, holding her firmly in his grasp as he studies her face with a cold curiosity. “You weren’t built for it, soft and smiles little woman like you but... it’s grown on you.”

River struggles to break his hold, her lungs starting to burn for air when his hand tightens around her neck. A familiar need sinks heavy in her gut, the yearn for oxygen, and with it a hideous shiver of something that she absolutely refuses to name.

“I should kill you right now,” he says, eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. “Let you rest with your dead husband. Would be a damn mercy after everything we’ve done to you.”

The drum of rapid heartbeats pounds in River’s ears as her heart gives a painful squeeze. She feels her cheeks suffuse with heat, and every jagged breath she drags in through her teeth saps her strength. When Kellogg slowly eases back his grip, she gasps and sucks greedy gulps of air into her lungs, her body singing with relief.

Kellogg plants his hand beside her head and stares down at her in disbelief. “You’re blushing,” he rumbles, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone and dodging the weak swipe she sends at him with a smirk. He catches both her wrists in one broad hand and locks them high above her head, leaving her helpless to that knowing look he drags down her body. “So the soft little house-wife likes to be choked. Aren’t you full of surprises.”

“Fuck you,” she pants, her voice raw and throaty from his grip. She jabs a knee up between his legs, but he blocks her with his free hand and squeezes tight into her thigh until she cries out from the pain.

“Is that why you keep coming back?” he continues, almost teasing now. His thumb hitches higher up her thigh, toward the heat that throbs with every heartbeat, aching to be touched. To her horror, something sick and filthy in her wants him to continue. “You need somethin’ else from me?”

“I don’t need  _anything_ from you,” she hisses through her teeth. “I want to put you in the ground and watch you burn.”

“Keep talkin’, Bautista. Maybe eventually I’ll believe you.” He grips a handful of her shirt and yanks it open in one swift pull, scattering buttons across the carpet. Her chest heaves for breath as he drags his calloused palm down her skin, tracing the faint lines of scars with the pad of his thumb. “Wasteland’s left its mark on you,” he observes under his breath. “I bet you mark up easy, pretty skin like this.”

Kellogg squeezes tighter at her wrists until the bones ache in his grip, keeping her securely under his control as he dips his mouth to her collarbone. She feels his lips graze the ridge of a scar and travel lazily lower, down between her breasts to another faded wound that scales her ribs. “Don’t-!” she pleads, but his touch forges on, unheeding. His beard scrapes rough against her skin, and then he rounds his mouth over her heart and sucks, and River cries out at the pulling pain and - fuck - sick twinge of pleasure that soon follows.

He sinks his teeth and sucks at her until she voices a soft whimper and he finally releases, licking his tongue over the bruise that starts to blossom there. She closes her eyes against the savage satisfaction on his face, trembling with shame. Deep down in the back of her mind, she knows better than to be surprised by her body’s response. Between the dreams of Kellogg bleeding to her hands, there have been others - nightmares twisting into something hot and wicked, and she wakes up always terrified and sopping wet between her thighs.

“You know, I’ve thought about this.” Kellogg shoves her bra up over her breasts and maps her skin with rough, greedy touches, rolling her nipples teasingly between his fingers. She bites a moan back behind her teeth. “About you, like this. What you’d look like begging and falling apart beneath me.”

She’ll die before she begs. That’s what she tells herself, a frantic mantra looping in her head as Kellogg hunts his mouth along her throat and leaves another hickey bitten into the soft skin there. His free hand pops the button on her jeans and slips beneath them, and he growls out a wicked laugh at the arousal that slicks his touch.

“God _damn,_  you’re soaked. A little pain and choking really get you this wet?” He rolls his tongue over the stiff peak of a nipple as his fingers start to stroke between her folds. “Or have you been thinking about this too?” Her hips jolt at the rough, persistent touch, and she presses her thighs tight together in a desperate attempt to keep him out.

He forces her legs back open with a lazy shift of his arm, smirking. “You can struggle all you want, little house-wife. I can feel how bad you need this.” His thumb shifts up to tease her clit as two fingers push inside her with humiliating ease. She can hear the wet sound of them moving within her, curling in and finding the point where delicate nerves converge, working his fingertips until she gasps and arches up against him.

River jerks her hands against his grip, sobbing as threads of wicked pleasure ripple through her. She fights against the rising tide, cursing him between each shattered breath, tensing when he presses teeth to the shell of her ear. The ragged sound of his breathing sends a shiver of sickening heat down her spine.

“You’re gonna come on my hand, little River,” he growls, pausing to nip sharply at her earlobe. “And then I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you scream.”

Despite the ache in her wrists, and the shame still searing red across her cheeks, River feels that telltale freefall in the bottom of her gut. His fingers fuck her with merciless strokes, thumb brushing unrelentingly at her swollen clit, and against her crumbling will, her hips start to roll into his brutal rhythm. She whines into her teeth, screwing her eyes shut, begging any god that might still listen not to let her come for the man who killed her husband in cold blood, but she gets no response. No saving grace, no chance of escape.

Just Kellogg, breathing hard against her neck and voicing another filthy, gravel chuckle when her body tenses into a tight line and she comes beneath him. She gasps and pants at the release of blinding pleasure, cursing him even as his fingers fuck her through it. Sweat clings damp and sticky to her skin when she comes back down, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her fingers have gone numb from being pinned beneath his hold and she feels utterly broken in the wake of climax.

While she struggles to recover, Kellogg relinquishes his touch between her thighs and tugs his belt loose, looping it snug around her wrists and drawing it tight. Her body gives little resistance when he tears the jeans down her hips, leaving her shivering and bare beneath the cold fluorescent lighting and his ravenous stare.

River can barely lift her head to watch him work his pants down. His cock bobs when it springs free, broad and throbbing hard between his fingers as he hitches her closer by the hips. The hot, heavy weight of him strokes down her sex, leaving her twitching at the overstimulation. She finds a thread of strength and swings her bound wrists up at him, making contact and sending his head back with a pained groan. Her legs are too weak to support her, but she gets another hit in with her fists before he catches the tail of his belt and secures it in his grasp once more.

“Get fucked,” she hisses, twisting her hands against their binds until her wrists are sore and raw.

Kellogg grips his other hand around her jaw, and his eyes never leave hers as he pushes in, parting her with one merciless thrust that brings them flush together. Her entire body reels at the intrusion, gripping down hard around him - to force him out or urge him closer, she can no longer tell. Twin aches of pain and relief twist over every nerve as he pulls out and shoves back in, so deep her mouth drops open around a strangled whimper.

His fingers dig bruises into her hip. She’ll be covered in them by the time he’s finished, from his iron grip and the bite of his teeth, each one throbbing like a tiny aching heartbeat. He sucks at the hollow of her collarbone and growls against her skin. The sound feels like it shakes through her in tremors, leaves her warm and weak and beating fists against his shoulders.

Leading a hand into her hair, Kellogg tugs white strands around his fingers, arching her head back to litter wicked bites along her shoulders. His hips rock a brutal rhythm against her, spreading, filling, pinning her in place. Her muscles are still limp from coming when a knot of tension starts to catch within her. Every ragged grunt and snarl from his throat and every savage stroke winds her tighter together, like a spring compressed and begging for release.

River’s eyes slip closed, blotting him and everything else into darkness, but his hand tugs firmly at her hair, just hard enough to feel the prickle of pain along her scalp. She opens her eyes to the dark of hunger in his gaze, the scar that marks his face and the cruel angle of his smirk.

“Watch me,” he growls, and a violent thread of need frays in his voice. “Want you to look me in the eyes, and know it’s me who made you come.” His thumb finds the swollen bead of her clit and rolls it mercilessly beneath the pad of his finger, unrelenting even as she wails and thrashes. Tears build and spill along her lashes, hot and shameful at the dark and heavy pleasure forcing through her, tearing her slowly into pieces.

Kellogg hitches her legs over his shoulders, and the next thrust sinks his cock as far as she can take him, deep enough to steal whatever breath is left within her lungs. Her muscles lock into a rigid arch. Her world goes white, and there is only the pain and the fullness, rough fingers biting aches into her thighs as she screams and falls apart.

Everything ends in the release. It burns her through and salts the earth. Exhaustion, anguish, even the bitter weight of her own rage - for a moment, insignificant. Kellogg buries his face against her neck and fucks her with a frantic pace. He bites a groan into her shoulder, rumbling her name as he bursts inside of her, his hands grinding her close against him for the last few shaky thrusts of his hips.

River grits her teeth when he pulls out, refusing him a single sound as he climbs slowly to his feet. He redresses with unhurried motions, leaving her bound and bare and leaking his cum onto the carpet. Her body aches - in good ways and in bad - and she wants more than anything to put a bullet in between his eyes and go home for a very long, very hot bath.

Kellogg nudges her blade closer with his boot until it rests at her side, within arms’ reach. His face and armor are composed once more, every aspect put back into proper place. “You can cut yourself free, but I’ll be gone by the time you do - and I’m not coming back.” He crouches over her to place his thumb under her chin, tipping her head up toward him with a steely gaze. “Do us both a favor, Bautista. Let it go. Move on.”

River watches him sling a bag over his shoulder and disappear down the far hallway without a second glance. The silence washes over her, flat and empty, and she heaves a shaky sigh, reaching her bound hands for the hilt of her blade. It takes her trembling hands a few tries to angle the point against the belt around her wrists, but she manages to force a tear into the leather and grunts with the effort of slicing it all the way through.

By the time the belt splits loose around her wrists, River has thought up at least ten more different ways to make Kellogg truly  _suffer_ before she kills him. He’ll want to make damn sure she never finds him.

He won’t make it out alive when she does.


End file.
